


that one can see rightly

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: More Bang for Your Buck: Persona Edition [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Frottage, Multi, Selfcest, Threesome - M/M/M, akira ‘to be honest fucking a clone of myself has always been my fantasy’ kurusu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” - Antoine de Saint-ExuperyAkira’s not sure where exactly he ends and Joker begins, or if that distinction is even useful. Joker has something a little more straightforward in mind.





	that one can see rightly

**Author's Note:**

> This fic owes a huge debt to tumblr user fleurdeliser whose twitter reactions persuaded me to buy Persona 5 and now here we are. I’m only six hours of gameplay in, so this probably takes place relatively early in the game and may contain elements that are contradicted later. I guess I’ll find out!
> 
> Also this fic was so close to being called “More Bang for Your Buck: Persona Edition.” You’re welcome that it’s not.

“Hey, c’mon!” Ryuji’s voice carries even over the busy streets of Shibuya. He turns and waves, jogging backwards a few steps before disappearing around the next corner with a grin. Akira grins back, quickening his pace. Ryuji wouldn’t mean to, but his enthusiasm gets the better of him sometimes, and Akira has found that it’s better to stretch his legs than be left behind.

He’s about to round the corner when something black and red and _large_ flickers in the corner of his vision, and he pulls up short, scanning for threats.

There shouldn’t be any, not of the Shadow kind, anyway; they’re still in the real world - at least, they are as far as Akira can tell - and he’s never seen one outside of that _other_ world -

But there’s nothing, just the steady flow of Sunday foot traffic, parting to flow irritably around him. Akira sighs - maybe it was just his imagination; he certainly wouldn’t blame it - turning away from the street and coming face to face with Arsene.

Akira jumps back, barely missing stepping on the foot of a heavy-set man who scowls as he detours around Akira. Arsene stretches his wings and Akira braces for the screams -

They don’t come, and Akira realizes that Arsene’s not really here; he’s mirrored inside the picture window of the little storefront on the corner, right where Akira’s reflection should be.

Akira glances around, but no one seems to see anything out of the ordinary: just a kid who doesn’t have the good sense to get out of the way of traffic. Akira steps closer, out of the flow, pretending to fix his hair in the window.

Arsene laughs soundlessly, tipping his hat to Akira, and then his whole image _shimmers_ and between one breath and the next he’s replaced by - by Akira himself, only this _isn’t_ Akira, this is _Joker_ , with the high collar and the red gloves and the razor smile Akira doesn’t know if he’s ever used in the real world.

Joker winks, and then raises one gloved finger to his lips just as something barrels into Akira from the left.

“Heeey, there you are,” Ryuji says, slinging an arm around Akira’s shoulders. “Dude, you should’ve said you wanted to stop - it took me, like, ten minutes to realize you weren’t behind me. Sorry man, I didn’t mean to -“

“Did you -,” Akira cuts off, glancing back at the window - but his own reflection, with Ryuji hanging around his neck, is all that looks back at him.

“Did I what?” Ryuji glances back and forth between the window and Akira.

“I -” Akira waves a hand experimentally. His reflection waves back.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking himself. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have fallen behind. Lead on,” he says grandly, and Ryuji pauses for a moment before laughing and pushing off.

“Sure, sure. Just let me know if you want to stop, m’kay?” He starts off again, and Akira follows.

It was probably just a trick of the imagination. That world isn’t supposed to bleed over by itself. Then again - who knows how this stuff works. It’s not like Akira is any kind of expert.

Well - Akira might not be, but he might know someone who is.

“Hey.” Akira shakes his school bag a little. “You awake?”

There’s a muffled, sleepy meow, and then Morgana’s head pokes of of the bag.

“I am now,” Morgana says with a yawn. “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet.” Akira shifts the bag on his shoulder. “Do you sense anything...weird going on?”

“Did you see something?” Morgana suddenly sounds a lot more awake. “You’re not using that app, are you?”

Akira pulls out his phone to double-check, pulse slowing when the Metaverse Navigator remains closed. “No. I just - it was probably just a trick of the light. Never mind.”

“Hmmm.” Morgana surveys the crowd but doesn’t sound convinced. “Nothing that I can sense. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“Nothing. It’s fine. Go back to sleep before someone notices you.” Morgana grumbles but draws back inside the bag.

He should probably tell them. Akira doesn’t know why he hasn’t.

It might have been the look in his own - in _Joker’s_ eyes right before Ryuji had interrupted: dark, knowing, and almost...playful. Like he knew something Akira didn’t.

Which doesn’t make any sense, because Akira _is_ Joker, Joker is just some code name Morgana made up - but then again, not a lot about this whole mess makes sense.

Akira just hopes this doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass later.

 

* * *

 

 _Later_ turns out to be in class next Tuesday, after lunch as Akira is desperately trying to stay awake. He props his head on his fist, idly scanning the classroom. His classmates don’t appear to be in much better shape; Sawada is fighting back a yawn, Yamamoto is already half asleep, Joker is -

Akira jerks upright. Joker is sitting in Sasagawa’s empty seat - she’s been out sick for days, Akira hopes it’s not catching - legs kicked out in front of him, head resting on one hand, grinning over at Akira. Akira’s eyes dart over the classroom but nobody, not even Ann, appears to see the kid in the flared-out trench coat and bone-white mask, dressed like he’s going to a masquerade in broad daylight.

Joker lifts his other hand and waves, grin blinding even in the afternoon sun, and Akira is suddenly struck - is this how he looks to the others? He’s never given it much thought, but Joker looks - _cool_ , in a way that Akira’s not used to thinking about in relation to himself. His hair looks artfully disheveled instead of just messy, and those dark-rimmed eyes glint with an amusement that curves his lips up.

That grin widens as Akira watches, and Joker’s posture suddenly becomes a lot more fluid, melting into the chair in a way that doesn’t look like his spine should be able to accommodate, looking up at Akira through long, dark lashes. His tongue darts out over his lower lip and Akira nearly swallows his own, tearing his eyes away as his pulse pounds in his throat. He looks out the window, trying to regain his composure, but the room darkens as the sun is blotted out by Arsene, hovering outside with slow, leisurely sweeps of his wings. Arsene’s face - such as it is - doesn’t look anything like Joker’s except in the smile, wide and knowing and _hungry_.

“Kurusu!” Akira jerks as the chalk bounces off his head and between one blink and the next, Arsene is gone and so is Joker, sunlight beaming in through the window and highlighting an empty seat.

“Pay attention!” Morgana hisses from the desk. “The last thing you need is attention from a teacher.”

Akira straightens, nodding his apology, and Mr. Ushimaru grunts and moves on.

Akira slants a glance at Sasagawa’s seat, but it remains sunlit and empty for the rest of the afternoon.

 

* * *

 

Akira almost gets used to it: the quick flash of a dark coat fluttering in the corner of his vision or the cool rustle of feathers behind his back. Joker seems to like catching him unawares, while Arsene slinks in the background, or sometimes directly behind Akira, shadow enveloping him in a way that Akira knows isn’t entirely real. One time Akira looks up during a test to find Joker peering over his shoulder. Joker flashes him a smile and then leans forward, tapping a multiple choice item underneath the one Akira had already circled. Akira hesitantly crosses his first answer out, then circles the answer Joker had indicated. Joker grins and claps him on the shoulder, disappearing between one breath and the next.

Akira only remembers to breathe when his lungs start to hurt, and he blows out a breath, the weight of Joker’s hand still heavy on his shoulder.

He gets full marks on that test.

He _still_ doesn’t mention it to the others. He hesitates to keep this kind of secret from them, but if even Morgana hasn’t noticed -

He doesn’t think he’s losing his mind; at least, not any more than he already has. But as outlandish as it is the Metaverse sometimes feels realer than the real world; he could never wear it to school or even out on a Sunday but letting Joker settle into his skin feels _true_ , feels _real_ , mask and gloves and all.

Akira supposes that makes sense. If Joker and Arsene are his heart and his will made manifest then it’s only natural that he’s not alarmed by them, even if he’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to be helping him with his schoolwork.

He’s almost given up trying to figure it out until the subway ride home when the normal impersonal crush of an overcrowded train becomes a very _personal_ pressure against his back. Akira looks over his shoulder angrily, ready to glare the other person into backing up -

Only to lock eyes with Joker, chin resting on Akira’s shoulder, pressed solidly up against Akira’s back with a definite glint in his eye.

Akira darts a glance to the side but as usual, Joker’s not even drawing the obvious avoidance when people are trying not to look; if anything, their eyes slide right over him, occasionally glancing at Akira then moving on with the casual indifference of the seasoned commuter.

“What do you _want_ ,” Akira hisses, trying to turn so he can see Joker more clearly, but Joker just slides a hand around Akira’s waist, pressing them closer together. He’s stronger than he looks.

“What do you think?” he murmurs into Akira’s ear, and before Akira can answer Joker raises his free hand and snaps his fingers.

The subway lights flicker, and Akira looks up in alarm - the crash is still fresh in everyone’s mind - but his view is blocked by a sweeping pair of ink-black wings that shift as Arsene turns to face him. His wings arch for a second, and for a moment Akira can see past him.

Where a moment ago the subway was filled with the evening crush of commuters, now it’s filled with Arsene, in every seat, at every grab handle, every person replaced by a glowing pair of eyes and a jagged smile. They all turn to him in unison as a clawed hand combs through his hair, and Akira looks up to see the Arsene in front of him bend close.

“ _What does your heart tell you_?” Arsene says in one voice and many, and Akira trembles under the weight of it, Joker’s arm the only thing holding him upright.

Then it’s gone, it’s all gone, and Akira stumbles as Joker’s comforting weight against his back disappears. He catches himself on a rail and is alone amongst the crowd of commuters again, heart pounding and breath coming fast.

He checks inside his bag, and Morgana looks up.

“Did you need something?”

“I -” Akira has no idea how to answer that.

“Are we home yet?” Morgana’s head pokes out of the bag and withdraws almost as quickly. “Yuck, subway. You should go to bed when we get home,” Morgana says, curling back up in the bag. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” Akira says slowly. “That’s not a bad idea.” With any luck, he’ll end up in the Velvet Room. Maybe Igor will have some answers, or some advice.

 

* * *

 

It seems like Akira has barely closed his eyes before he’s opening them again, only it’s not to the chains and bars of the Velvet Room but to a steady pressure across his midsection, gloved hands on his shoulders, and a dark and above all _familiar_ gaze smirking at him from inches away.

Arsene’s clawed hands curl around Joker’s shoulders, smile glitching in the air behind Joker’s head as void-dark wings curl around them. Arsene’s hands flex and Joker leans down; Akira can’t tell if Arsene is the instigator or just along for the ride but it hardly matters when Joker’s lips on his are hot and demanding, his hands sliding down Akira’s chest to rest over his heart.

“ _I am thou; thou art I_ ,” Arsene murmurs, and the Akira’s blood sings in response. “ _Here, there, and anywhere you have the strength to call_.”

Joker bites down on Akira’s lip and Akira jerks, but his hands slide up to pull Joker closer, not push him away. Arsene’s approving chuckle fills the room with shadow and heat, blotting out the moon and the streetlights and everything but the warm chest pressed against his own and the cool, clawed hand in his hair.

“ _You have but to call_ ,” Arsene says, or maybe Akira just hears it in his head, and then the blare of his alarm splits his skull open and he’s flailing upright, breathing hard.

“Morning!” Morgana chirps from the foot of the bed. “Man, you were restless last night. Bad dreams?”

Akira finally finds his phone and stabs at the alarm, which falls mercifully silent.

“Something, uh -” He catches a yawn with his hand. “Something like that.”

“Hm. Better hurry,” Morgana says, hopping down and stretching. “You don’t want to be late.”

For a moment Akira considers cutting classes and confessing everything; but what would he say? _I think I’m being stalked by my own persona and it’s freaking me out but not as much as it should and also it turns out I’m a really good kisser._ He can’t - Sojiro would hear about skipping school at the very least, and Morgana -

Morgana might find a way to make it stop.

“Yeah,” he says, sliding out of bed and yawning again. “I’m hurrying.”

The day passes quickly, and although Akira keeps a sharp eye out for any flash of black or white or red, neither Joker nor Arsene make an appearance that he can detect. It’s jarring, almost, to be alone in his own head again; he hadn’t realized how comfortable he had gotten with a flash of a smile out of the corner of his eye or the phantom weight of a clawed hand on his shoulder.

After class he hurries to catch up with Ann, figuring she’s the best one to ask.

“Hey, would you, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck as she turns. “Would you - would you mind taking care of Morgana for the night? Just for tonight,” he adds in a rush as Morgana’s head pops out of his bag. “I just - I just need to -” Akira falters under the combined weight of their gazes, every story he’d tried to concoct flying completely out of his head.

Then Ann’s eyes widen. “Oh. _Oh_. No, I get you - no need to say any more! Please don’t say any more,” she says seriously, opening her school bag. “Come on, cutie,” she says to Morgana, who’s staring at Akira with narrowed eyes. “It’ll be fun! We’ll have a sleepover, just the two of us.”

Morgana is clearly tempted by this offer - and just as clearly suspicious of Akira’s motives.

“I promise I’ll come get you in the morning,” Akira says. “I just need some -”

“Alone time!” Ann cuts in. “Akira just needs some alone time. He is a growing boy.” She pats the inside of her bag, and Morgana’s eyes widen in understanding.

“ _Oh_. Oh, yeah, leave me out of that,” Morgana says, hopping into Anne’s bag and curling up.

“It’s not -” Akira starts, and Ann holds up her hand, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

“We don’t want to hear it,” Ann says, but she’s smiling. “I’m happy to help, just - don’t tell me about it, okay?”

“Yeah,” Morgana chimes in, muffled, from the depths of Ann’s bag. Ann pats Akira gingerly on the arm.

“We’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well!” She says with a wink, and then she’s gone, ash-blond curls bouncing as she strides off.

Akira resists the urge to shout _it’s not like that!_ after them.

After all, if last night was any indication, it might very well turn out to be _like that_.

 

* * *

 

His room feels strangely empty without Morgana, even with the bustle of the cafe below. Akira waits until the door jingles behind the last customer, and then again behind Sojiro. He briefly goes downstairs to check that the “open” sign has been flipped to “closed;” it has, which is good. The last thing Akira wants is an interruption.

He heads back upstairs and stands in the middle of the attic room, surveying the shadows for for a hint of black or white or red. Nothing. He knows that they’re there, though, like something behind him that moves with him when he turns to look, always just out of sight.

Akira takes his glasses off and folds them carefully, setting them aside. He sits on the edge of his little bed in his makeshift room and says, “I’m waiting.”

There’s no pop, no rush of displaced air, but suddenly his arms are full of Joker, his legs spread across Akira’s thighs and arms draped loosely across his shoulders. His smile is even more dangerous up close, and Akira finds his hands settling tentatively on Joker’s thighs, his breath speeding up.

“Are you -” Akira lifts a hand and brushes a lock of hair away from the mask. It feels cool under his fingertips, just as it does when he wears it, cool and smooth and stronger than it has any right to be. _Are you real_ , is what he wants to ask, but that suddenly seems rude, and beside the point.

Joker seems to hear him anyway. “As real as you are. As real as he is.” He nods at something behind Akira, and Akira can feel the bed dipping as Arsene settles behind him, clawed hands resting lightly on his back.

That’s not - _entirely_ reassuring, but the weight on his legs and resting against his back feels real enough, and there’s one more question that needs answering.

“What do you want from me?”

Joker’s grin shines in the dim light filtering in from the streetlights, and his eyes are dark and promising.

“Can’t you guess?” One red-gloved hand slides up to rest lightly against his cheek, and then Joker is leaning in slowly, slow enough to clearly telegraph his intentions, slow enough to give Akira the opportunity to say no.

Akira is tired of saying no.

Joker’s lips on his are just as warm as he remembers, and although it’s probably weird to be kissing himself it doesn’t _feel_ weird - it feels good, it feels _true_ , and Akira wonders why they haven’t been doing this all along.

Joker chuckles into his mouth, pulling back the barest fraction of an inch.

“Just waiting for you to catch up,” he says, patting Akira’s cheek before pressing back in again.

A cool, sharp-fingered hand combs through Akira’s hair, fisting loosely in the back and tugging gently. Akira gasps as he’s pulled back away from Joker, but Joker doesn’t seem to mind, turning his attention to the line of Akira’s neck as his head is tipped back.

“ _Your heart is strong enough to contain multitudes_ ,” Arsene thrums, deep and possessive, holding Akira’s head steady. The fire of his eyes and his smile heat Akira’s skin. “ _But we were here first_.”

“Yes,” Akira breathes, and although he doesn’t quite know what he’s saying yes to that seems to be the right answer because Joker makes a pleased noise and reaches up to recapture his face, the seams of his gloves pressing into Akira’s skin. Arsene lets him go, claws skating over his scalp as they slide through his hair, and Akira moans into Joker’s mouth.

Joker’s in no hurry, pressing long, languid kisses against Akira’s mouth, thighs flexing under Akira’s hands. Akira slides his hands up until he has Joker’s hips caged between his hands, thumbs skating over the waistband. Joker hums approvingly, and grinds his hips down into Akira’s.

Akira gasps, hips jerking up as he tries to hold Joker in place, but Joker just moves with him, arms wrapping around Akira’s shoulders and pulling him close. Joker grinds his hips down again, knocking Akira off-balance and back into Arsene. Night-dark wings arch around them as Arsene steadies them, pulling Akira back against his chest, talons curling long and sharp around Akira’s hips.

Akira’s head feels like it’s swimming, like he can’t get enough oxygen, but he never wants to let go, hands scrabbling at Joker’s back and fisting in the leather as Joker grinds their hips together. Joker’s making little panting noises in his ear - or maybe those are coming from him, because Joker’s voice resolves into his name, murmured over and over again with increasing desperation: “Akira, Akira, _Akira_.” Akira’s hips jerk up with each repetition, and he has to swallow back the sob he can feel building in his chest.

“ _Don’t hold back_ ,” Arsene says, and Akira opens eyes he doesn’t remember closing to see Arsene’s face looming over them, proud and pleased and possessive all at once. “ _Not with us. Never with us_.”

“Akira,” Joker breathes into his hair, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “ _Please_ ,” and Akira’s body pulls tight on a gasp, Joker’s moan echoing his own as ink-dark wings fold around them, enclosing them and pulling Akira down into blackness.

When he opens his eyes again he’s flat on his back on his bed, and he’s alone.

Akira lays there, staring unseeing at the ceiling as his pulse slows, trying to catch his breath. When he feels like he can sit up he does, grimacing at the sticky mess in his pants. He’ll have to wash those without Sojiro seeing, somehow.

Akira looks around the room just in case, but it remains empty, no fluttering coat or errant feathers to be seen. He hadn’t really expected otherwise, but it would have been - nice.

Might as well get cleaned up. Akira stands on legs that only shake a little, dumping his soiled clothes in the hamper to deal with later. He slips into his pajamas and crawls into bed, his body suddenly heavy with sleep. The bed feels a little empty without Morgana at the foot, but his eyelids are already closing even as he settles his head on the pillow, curling up on his side.

Just before he drops off, he feels an arm slide around his middle and a familiar weight press against his back. A phantom wing brushes over the side of his face and Akira falls asleep with Joker’s breath warm on the back of his neck and a smile stretched across his face.

 

* * *

 

“Akira!” Akira turns before the gates of Shujin to see Ann waving him down, jogging a bit to catch up.

“Whew! I’m glad I caught you,” she says, brushing her bangs out of her eyes.

“We’re in the same class,” Akira says, amused.

“Yeah,” Ann says, unzipping her bag. “But I can’t exactly hand you a cat in the middle of class, can I?”

“I’m not a cat,” Morgana grumbles, scrambling into Akira’s school bag, but the protest is more perfunctory at this point than anything else. “And I’m not baggage, either!”

“Of course you’re not,” Ann soothes, skritching Morgana’s ears one last time before straightening. “Did you, uh - did you have a good night?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” Akira says, letting the corner of his mouth pull up as he adjusts the bag to let Morgana sit more comfortably.

“I don’t!” Ann says, pink rising to her cheeks as she scowls. “I’m just - oh, never mind.” She bumps his shoulder as she brushes past him, but he can see her smile before she disappears up the stairs to the school.

“What _were_ you doing that was so secret I couldn’t be around?” Morgana’s voice is muffled but the blue eyes peering out of the bag are narrowed with suspicion. “Was Lady Ann right? Wait, actually, don’t tell me if she’s right.”

Someone else bumps Akira’s shoulder on their way past, and Akira looks up to see Joker turning to face him, taking the steps backwards as he grins. Outsized iridescent wings flicker on either side of him for a moment, then he lifts his hand in a _come on_ gesture as he turns and melts into the flow of students.

“Isn’t she always?” Akira murmurs, laughing at Morgana’s meow of despair as he takes the steps two at a time, ready for whatever’s next.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at ThirtySixSaveFiles on Tumblr!


End file.
